


zombies nd shit

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: Taemin scoots closer until their chairs are pressed together, leaning against Jonghyun’s shoulder comfortably. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows at him.“Are you trying to come onto me again?” he asks.tumblr





	zombies nd shit

**Author's Note:**

> tw for minor character death and u kno zombies nd shit

Jonghyun groans quietly, rubbing his palms into his eyes. It’s too late for this. Too late to be on guard duty, to be sitting in this cracked chair and leaning up against the pillow he’s propped up against the makeshift cover wall up on the roof. He’s not a guard person. He’s the inventory guy. It’s not his fault that the regular evening shift guy went and got himself eaten by infected and left them shorthanded.

He groans again, flopping back in his chair. Now he feels bad. Like, yeah, he kind of hated the asshole, but still--it’s hard to get the agonized screams of someone being eaten alive out of your head once you remember them again.

“Hey.” A familiar voice from behind him makes him turn. Taemin’s slouching up to him, one hand in his pocket, crossbow limp in his other as he ascends the steps to the sniper’s nest. He smiles; Taemin is always good to have around.

“Come to keep me company?” he asks, scooting his chair over to give Taemin more space. Taemin shrugs in agreement, lowering himself into the second, even shittier chair set up up there.

“I figured you could use some help,” he says, smothering a yawn in his hand. “Since you’re not used to this.” He takes Jonghyun’s pillow and holds it against his chest, propping his chin up against it and blearily looking out at the clunker-filled parking lot in front of their base. Jonghyun frowns. Taemin usually takes the dead night shifts, from two to six.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You know I’m out here until midnight.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Taemin says, smiling at Jonghyun’s concern. “Not like I didn’t sleep all day anyway.” He throws Jonghyun a half-assed finger pistol and Jonghyun snorts, shaking his head fondly. He knows Taemin. He’s a sleepy pain in the butt all day, but when it’s time for him to keep watch, he’s vigilant, determined, and almost scary in his precision. He trusts Taemin to know his limits. He reaches up and ruffles Taemin’s hair in that way he hates, just to bug him. Taemin swats his hand away with a quick glare before his face relaxes into a soft smile again.

“So what did you do this weekend?” he asks, perfectly pleasant and acceptable small talk for fifteen years ago before everything started. Jonghyun snorts. He doesn’t think Taemin is even old enough to have had decent small talk before shit hit the fan. Not that he himself is much older, but still.

“Nothing,” he says, shrugging tiredly. Taemin tsks, glancing at Jonghyun with a quirked eyebrow.

“You had to have done _something_ ,” he insists. “Like, you existed, right?” Jonghyun glances back at him, shrugging slightly before focusing back in front of him.

“Not sure,” he mumbles. “Uncertain.” He doesn’t know if checking and double checking years-old cans of food and logging how much ammo didn’t go into not dying the week before really counts as an acceptable existence. He turns to Taemin with a little smile that couldn’t be faker if he tried. “Will report with further details as they become available.” He wiggles a finger pistol at Taemin this time, only half mocking him. They’re kind of fun. Taemin chuckles softly and scoots closer until their chairs are pressed together, leaning against Jonghyun’s shoulder comfortably. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows at him.

“Are you trying to come onto me again?” he asks. Taemin grins guiltily, bringing his hand up to rub his nose.

“I’d rather lean against you than a wall,” he says loftily. Jonghyun nods in understanding. Of course. Taemin wiggles his hand down to find Jonghyun’s next, lacing their fingers together in the least casual way possible. “Also, yes,” he adds, grinning like a shit. Jonghyun rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Well, stop it,” he grumbles, wiggling his hand away from Taemin’s. He lets Taemin keep leaning on him, but only because he’s warm. Taemin pouts on his shoulder.

“Come _on_ ,” he whines. Jonghyun sighs a second time. Now they get to have this whole conversation again. At least it’s better than nothing.

“I’ve told you,” he starts, “It’s just… too hard, to have something… like what you want.” Too hard, too stressful, too sad. What if he does do this with Taemin? What if he lets himself get attached? And then what if Taemin dies?

“It’s too hard to _not_ have what I want,” Taemin mumbles. “What if I die?” he asks. “What if I die and never know what it’s like?”

And that’s where they differ. Jonghyun shifts to get more comfortable in his chair. He doesn’t want to be left alone; Taemin doesn’t want to die alone. Maybe if they both weren’t so stubborn this would be easier. Taemin leans more of his weight on Jonghyun insistently.

“Come on,” he whines again. “Why can’t you just… hold my hand on patrols? And kiss me goodnight? And… I don’t know, save me an extra bite of canned bread or whatever romantic bullshit people did way back when?”

“I don’t think that was really a common occurrence, Tae,” Jonghyun says, muffling giggles behind his hand. Taemin giggles as well, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I remember, when I was little, my bro used to--wait--” He sits up straight suddenly, squinting out into the slowly pacing circle of the old spotlight they have stationed up here. Jonghyun looks out, too; he doesn’t see anything, but Taemin gets to his feet, nestles himself against the low wall and raises his crossbow, bolt locked into place. Jonghyun looks from him to the parking lot.

“What is it?” he whispers, tense.

“Stalker,” Taemin mutters back. “Behind the blue car.” Jonghyun scans the parking lot again for the rusted blue car and--yeah, he sees it. Hunched over, staggering forward, fungus already taking over half of it’s face. Ugh. It doesn’t help that he can hear it now that he’s focused on it. He hates the gurgly, croaking noises that come out of their mouths. They make his skin crawl.

“Do you have a clear shot?” he asks softly. Taemin doesn’t answer; Jonghyun assumes that he’s trying to get a clear shot. Looking at Taemin as he is now, face taught, eyes cold, compared to how serene and relaxed he was just a few moments ago… he’s reminded again of why Taemin is usually put on solo guard duty while everyone else is sleeping. He can take care of himself--and people trust him to do so.

He watches, gaze slipping from Taemin to the stalker and back again, until Taemin shoots, no warning, no tick, no hesitation in his trigger finger. The bolt flies through the air and lands squarely between the stalker’s eyes and it crumples to the ground with another strangled groan that makes Jonghyun cringe. He really hates those things. The spotlight passes over their lifeless body again and he squints, noticing it’s clothes. On it’s contorted form is a striped, black and white long sleeved shirt that looks familiar even through all of the old bloodstains.

“Hey, I know that shirt,” he says, grinning at it. “Isn’t that the one that you--”

He cuts himself off before he can finish his sentence, but he can tell that the damage has already been done. What the fuck is wrong with him? He shrinks down in shame when Taemin doesn’t move from his position and just continues to stare at the stalker that he just shot. Of course he recognizes the shirt that he gave to his own best fucking friend. Jonghyun hovers his hand hesitantly over Taemin’s shoulder, but pulls it back. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Taemin is silent for a long moment; Jonghyun copies him, letting him take his time. The minutes of silence drag on, but eventually, Taemin swallows.

“I knew… that he never came back… from that exploration mission two months ago,” he says quietly. His voice is thick, and when he sits back down, Jonghyun can see wetness in his eyes. “But… I didn’t want to have it confirmed. I didn’t want to….” He trails off, but Jonghyun can fill in the blanks. He didn’t want to be the one to confirm it. He didn’t want to have to shoot his own friend between the eyes. And he didn’t want to be left alone without him.

Jonghyun doesn’t think this would be the ideal moment for an “I told you so.” He twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“At least,” he says softly, “at least he had your shirt to… to keep him company.” Taemin looks at him from the corner of his eye. A little upward quirk of his lips tells him that he’s restraining himself from an “I told you so” as well. Jonghyun gives him a tiny smile in return. He brings his feet up to rest on the edge of the chair so he can hug his knees to his chest. He thinks back to just a few minutes ago, when he was thinking to himself about how capable Taemin is. What happened to his friend--would never happen to Taemin. He wouldn’t allow it.

Accidents do happen, but… Jonghyun is sure that Taemin is safer and more skilled at this than anyone else at their camp. And as for himself--if that were him out there, he wouldn’t have anything to show that anyone cared for him. He’d be just another forgotten, rotting body in the street.

If Taemin has more of a chance than anyone else here… wouldn’t it be okay for Jonghyun to give him a chance too?

“Hey, um,” he starts. Taemin looks at him, tired eyes, defeated posture. Jonghyun doesn’t know what he was planning on saying. He reaches down for Taemin’s hand instead, lacing their fingers together with a soft smile. There. That’s good, right? Taemin will get it. Taemin looks at their tangled fingers, rubbing his thumb over the back of Jonghyun’s hand gently, with a little smile of his own. Yeah. He gets it.

“No,” Taemin mumbles. Jonghyun frowns.

“No?” he repeats, confused. Fifteen minutes ago, it was a yes. Taemin shakes his head, though, tugging his hand away from Jonghyun’s gently.

“No,” he confirms with a sad little look. “Because now you’re just doing it because you feel bad.”

“Nuh uh,” Jonghyun says automatically. Taemin chuckles fondly and sticks his hands into his pockets.

“Uh huh,” he counters, and really, he does have a point, once Jonghyun thinks about it for more than a few seconds. At least partially. Taemin scoots a little closer and leans his head against Jonghyun’s shoulder anyway. “Come back in a week, once your little inner pity party stops,” he advises. “If you still want to.” Jonghyun humphs, grumpy.

“It’s only, like, thirty percent pity,” he argues. Taemin snorts.

“Come back in thirty percent of a week, then,” he says.

Jonghyun plans to.


End file.
